


I Awoke to a World With You

by SedofRan



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Crazy Fanboy Supervillain, Denial of Feelings, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mentions of Sex, Murder, No Isabella (Kinda), Parallel Universes, Rating May Change, other things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-01 01:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10911729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SedofRan/pseuds/SedofRan
Summary: Edward Nygma had killed his best friend; Oswald Cobblepot. He watched him sink to the depths of the polluted waters of Gotham. He was dead. He was certain of it.Then why did he wake up with Oswald in his bed? Why does Oswald not remember Isabella? Why is he saying that he and Edward are engaged?And who is the "mysterious" new villain who claims to be the mastermind behind all of this?(Sorry. I'm not good at summaries.)





	1. Good Morning, Dead Man

He remembered it clearly, even after the long weeks that had past. He remembers his eyes, trying so hard to meet his own, filled to the brim with tears and emotion. How he reached out for him, even as he fell back into the harbor – pushed by _his_ hand. His blood stained the polluted waters as the falling raindrops disrupted the image of him sinking.

Yet more proof that he was better than Jim Gordon. _He_ actually did shoot, kill, and drown Oswald Cobblepot on those docks.

So much for “long live the king”.

Edward tried to keep his mind away from the Penguin, but the worm kept crawling back from the deepest recesses of his mind. Some nights, he would wake up to what he thought was the sound of the man hobbling down the hall, but he was never there when he looked. After 357 times, he just stopped looking and would bury his head under his pillow, as if to muffle out the sound that was being formed in his head. It never worked with the Other Ed, so he didn’t know why he bothered to try.

But that night… that night was different. There was no asymmetrical tapping a limping man pacing down his halls, nor did that man limp into his dreams that night. The memories of the last time they… met… did not appear before him. There was nothing but soft piano music, as if being played from outside a window or a few rooms over, and the familiar melody sang by two voices ever so faintly.

For the first time since Oswald had died, Edward slept until the morning. It was sunlight streaming through the curtains, dancing on his face, that stirred him from his peaceful slumber. Birds sang to him, wishing him a good morning.

All in all, it was a bad omen to wake up in such a way in the city of Gotham.

Edward groaned at the light, feeling tired in a way that he hadn’t felt in some time, as he rolled over onto his other side to avoid it. He buried his face into the plush pillows, enjoying the silky texture and briefly wondering why he was so pleasantly warm.

Then there came a light chuckle, one all too familiar, right below his chin.

Edward’s eyes snapped open as a finger traced along his expose collar bone. “God, Ed,” the smiling man whispered, opening his own brilliant blues to stare up at him, “I didn’t think I would ever live to see the day when I woke up before you.” Warm breath caressed the hallow of his neck with every word muttered.

His throat constricted as his body tensed. Long fingers wrapped around the bare shoulders of the man before him, leaving him somewhat surprised when they didn’t faze through like they had with his other hallucinations. He pushed him away roughly once he realized that contact had been made, pinning him to the bed.

“Ed,” Oswald giggled, a light blush dusting his pale cheeks and drawing his eyes to the myriad of freckles, “I would have thought that last night would have been enough to sate you, but I guess that this is a rather momentous occasion.” Oswald tilted his head to the side, exposing his decorated neck. “It is the first time I’ve woken up with my _fiancé_ in bed with me.”

Edward swallowed, finding his throat to be lined with what felt like sandpaper. “F-Fiancé?”

“Mmmm.” Oswald fluttered his long lashes at him. “I love the sound of that. Why don’t you say it again to me, Mr. Nygma?”

“No,” Edward said sharply, taking his hands away as if burned. “No. No. NO.” His fingers tangled into his dark locks. “This is not happening right now. I must be dreaming. This has to be a dream.”

“It’s no dream, Eddie.” Oswald sat up, the sheets falling lower. “Eddie… are… are you alright? You don’t look very well.” He reached out a hand to brush against his shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” Edward leapt off the bed. “This can’t be real – you can’t be real! I… you-”. He gasped at his naked form. With a squeak, one that he will deny making to his death bed, he ripped one of the blankets off the bed and wrapped it around himself. “This isn’t right. I have to be having a nightmare of sorts right now or… or… Oh gosh, you can’t be doing this to me. You can’t.”

“Eddie!” Oswald stood up from the bed as well, using the frame to help him hobble over to the taller man. “What is the matter with you? Did you have a nightmare? Is that what this is all about or-”

“No. This isn’t right. You… Y-You killed her!” Edward stammered.

Seeing how the other man backed away from him, Oswald stopped advancing, choosing instead to remain by the end of the bed to lean against it for support. “You are going to have to be more specific. I-I have killed a lot of ‘hers’ in my life. It is kinda my job.”

“Isabella!” Edward shouted. “Isabella! Isabella! Isabella!”

Oswald flinched. “I don’t know who you are talking about, Ed.”

“Yes, you do!” Edward’s fists tightened on the blanket until his knuckles were white. “Isabella! My Isabella! My Isabella that you had killed!”

“I don’t know what you are talking about!” Oswald shouted back, confusion evident on his pale face. “Who is Isabella?”

Edward scoffed. “Is that the game that you are going to play now? You kill Isabella, I reject you, and now you think that you can just show up in my bed and say that none of that happened; that you and I are in l-love? You might as well give it up now, Oswald, because I am not going to fall for your puny revenge scheme.”

Oswald took a tentative step forward. “I think you are really confused right now. I can assure you that neither you nor I know anyone named Isabella. Clearly, all the nerves you had from your proposal last night and the drinking that took place after is not sitting well with you right now. Just… Just get back into bed and I’ll have Olga bring up some aspirin and water for your hangover.” He twisted the diamond ring around his slim finger, clearly not use to having the jewelry on his hand yet. “I’ll make sure that you don’t have anything scheduled for today, so just rest up, okay?”

Edward bit his tongue to keep his mouth shut. Keeping a narrowed gaze on the _still_ naked man, he tentatively crept back into the bed, making sure to avoid the stains that remained from whatever Oswald had said occurred the night before. Waiting until his fiancé was safely under the covers, Oswald wrapped himself in a golden trimmed robe. He sent one last worried glance over his shoulder back at Edward as he tied the sash before limping out of the room in search of the housekeeper.

The second the door closed behind the smaller man, Edward leapt out of bed. He picked up the clothes that was haphazardly thrown onto the floor. He winced at the wrinkles that had formed from the mistreatment, but ignored it in favor of covering his nudity.  Once fully dressed, he turned his attentions to the bedside table, where he hoped he would find his glasses.

His glasses where there, folded up nicely and place carefully  near the middle, but they did not sit alone. Just beneath the lens was a black envelope that he was certain wasn’t there when he went to bed the night before. Then again, he was certain that Oswald was at the bottom of the harbor and certainly not in his bed the night before as well.

Placing the glasses on the bridge of his nose, Edward slipped open the envelope to reveal the red letter inside.

 

_Dear Mr. Riddle Man,_

_I’ll explain as best as I can._

_You see, I answered your blight_

_And decided to set everything right._

_Oswald have breath_

_And is free from Death._

_No need to ask how,_

_For you are in my world now._

_You’re welcome, dear friend,_

_But this is not the end._

_Be rid of your gloom,_

_For we shall meet real soon._

_You don’t know what you mean to me,_

~~_From, your_ ~~

_Love, your mortal enemy._

 


	2. I Need Time to Figure Out Your Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left such great comments. It made me smile so hard to know that you guys liked the first chapter so much.

The paper crinkled under his white-knuckled grip, the edges tearing under the strain. His eyes scanned the lines over and over again, taking in each word as if he expected them to change between the rereads. Finally willing to admit to himself that the letters were not going to rearrange themselves to suite him better, he pondered on the meaning behind them. What could they have meant by “my world”?  
Edward scowled and grit his teeth, crumbling the paper into a ball before tossing it towards the wastebasket in the corner of the room. It bounced off the rim, landing just a few inches from it, but he couldn’t muster up enough will to care. Smoothing his hair back from his face, ignoring the loose curls that bounced right back without the aide of gel to keep it in place. Turning sharply on his heel, he marched towards the door and opened it as silently as he could.  
He had never been so acutely aware of the creaks and groans of the manor before in his life. Yes, he would listen to the patter of his old fri-… the Penguin… as he made his way to and from. Yes, he would wait for the sound of the door shutting to assure him that Oswald had indeed reached his room alright, that is to say, should he not accompany him to the door in order to assure it himself with his own two eyes. But now that he was trying to be silent, it seemed that every noise was ten times the intensity that it had ever been in the past. He swore that this new world, or whatever it was, had made the manor particularly noisy, just for him.  
He winced with every step passed the creaking door to his bedroom, testing each floorboard with his toes before slowly placing his weight on it. He carried his shoes in his hand, not wanting to risk anything more than socked feet on the old wood that sought to betray him. one step lead to two, and two lead to three. On and on, carefully as he could, he made his way down the hallway to the stairs. Once there, he grasped the handrail tightly, using it to support most of his weight as he continued on his way.  
“Don’t roll your eyes, Olga,” Oswald’s voice sang from behind closed doors. “Please? Edward is not himself right now.”  
Edward heard the ghastly woman mutter something in her native tongue. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the sound. How anyone, least of all Oswald, could see anything of worth with that ignorant and rather rude woman, he would never know. She didn’t speak English well enough to say more than a few words at a time and like hell he was going to learn her tongue. He doubted that she and he could have any sort of civil conversation.  
“He just needs a painkiller or two for his hangover,” Oswald spoke again, “and rest. Plenty of rest. I can make sure that he doesn’t leave the bed for the day.” Olga huff and muttered something. “Olga! I-I do not mean like that. I don’t like the look that you are giving me.” Edward heard the tapping of a cane draw closer. “A-And I believe that I gave you an order. I even asked nicely, so if you would please-”  
The door opened before Edward could think of a place to hide. He was met with the sight of Oswald’s bright blue eyes lighting up in surprise, clearly not expecting him to be dressed and out of bed; particularly not such a short time after he advised him to stay and rest.  
“Ed?” Oswald questioned, fingering his ring. “What are you doing out of bed? “  
The taller man opened and shut his mouth, searching for the words to speak. “What can kill with only a thimbles worth, yet is around you at all times?”  
Oswald pursed his lips, tilting his head ever so slightly in thought. His eyes never left Edwards as he pondered. “Oxygen… air? Air.” The corner of his lips turned up into a smile. “Air. You want fresh air.”  
Edward straightened himself out, pressing down the wrinkles in his suit the best that he could with his hands. “I felt that a walk would serve me better than any… um… bedrest at the moment. Just a bit of fresh air can do wonders, you know.”  
The Penguin nodded his head thoughtfully. “I… I suppose that it may. I don’t suppose you would mind a bit of company on your walk, would you.” He reached out a hand to his… fiancé.  
“N-No.” The riddle man took a step back. “I mean… I wouldn’t want you to strain your leg. I noticed that your limp is especially prominent today.”  
Oswald flushed bright red at the statement.  
Edward soon followed suite.  
“What I meant to say is that I think some alone time would be good for me. My mind is still a bit hazy from everything and I need… I need some time to sort all my thoughts out.” Edward held his shoes behind his back and forced a small smile towards the shorter man.  
Oswald, still red all the way up to the tips of his ears, nodded his head, eagerly returning the smile. “Yes. I understand.” He ran a hand over his neck, fingertips lightly tracing the purple and red splotches that stood proudly against the pale skin. “The citizens of Gotham probably shouldn’t see their mayor in such a state anyway. I can already see the headlines. Those reporters always seem to be everywhere and everyone at once.” Oswald shook his head. “And people call us monsters.”  
Oswald was mayor. Edward paused for a brief moment, taking in the information, before he schooled his expression and nodded his head in agreement. “Truly.” He backed away. “I shall be off now.”  
“Yes.” Oswald shooed him off halfheartedly. “Be sure to keep your phone on you. You know how I worry.” Before Edward could react, Oswald bounced up onto the tips of his toes and lightly pressed his lips to the corner of his mouth. The contact last for just a beat before Oswald sank back down to his normal height. “Don’t be out too long. This day should be spent together. In celebration.”  
“R-Right.” Edward swiftly turned away from the man, ignoring the pounding of his racing heart in his chest as he clutched his shoes close to him. He slipped them on at the door, having trouble in doing so with his trembling hands. He was acutely aware of Oswald lingering behind him, seeing him off to the front door.  
The heavy front door clicked shut behind him. Once the sound reached Edward’s hazy mind, he took off. His feet beat against the ground as he ran, not sure where they were taking him exactly, but not really caring as long as they took him far away from there. He needed to get away. He needed to be alone.  
He needed to think.

 

But he didn’t know he was being watched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left such great comments. It made me smile so hard to know that you guys liked the first chapter so much.


	3. I Guess I'll Talk To Jim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to all of the people who have liked and commented on this story. (:  
> I had to post this chapter again because. for some reason, some things didn't carry over onto ao3 when I first posted it. Hopefully, the formatting should all be there.

He was out of the city, much farther than he had ever been on his feet alone. The dark alleys and suspicious faces were soon enough replaced with looming branches and rustling greenery. He ignored the mud that sloshed onto his fine shoes, staining them and the hem of his pants as he went.

His lungs burned and his legs throbbed in time with his racing heart. Deeming that he had gone far enough, he allowed himself to fall into a light trot before stopping his march altogether. Taking a stance against a nearby tree, Edward took his time to catch and even his breathing.

“Okay,” he muttered to himself, running both hands over his chestnut curls, smoothing them out of his face the best he could. “Okay. So… what do I know… Oswald is alive and says that we are fia- together. He says that Isabella didn’t exist, or at least, he is claiming that he doesn’t know her. And I got a letter from someone with an affinity for rhymes saying that I am in their world and that they are the cause behind everything.” He lightly taps the back of his head against the bark of the tree. “What is going on? I know Oswald is dead. I saw him die. I _made_ him die.”

Edward brought his thumb up to his lips, nibbling on the tip as he paced the forest floor. “I need to find someone else to tell me what I need to know. Someone that would tell the truth to me and not try to fall in line with Oswald’s trickery. Someone that Oswald couldn’t pay off to try to convince me of this whole mess.” A name popped into his head, causing his facial features to twist up into a scowl. “No. _No_. I won’t go running to _him_ of all people. There has to be someone else that…” His mind goes blank. “Shoot.”

While he would much rather destroy him than go to him for any sort of help, Jimbo Gordon was one of the only people that he knew would not fall in line with Oswald’s schemes. The policeman would not except any sort of payment from the crime boss, monetary or otherwise. If he could convince the man to even speak civilly with him enough for him not to lie to him just for… insert the latest crime he has done that Jim knows about here… then perhaps he could finally get someone to admit that everything that had happened had actually happened and everything that hadn’t happened hadn’t.

Edward rubbed at his temples, trying to keep the growing migraine from his own nonsensical thoughts at bay. Should he go to Jim or should he stay out here until he thinks of someone else? A glance at the sky and a quick check of the position of the sun told him that many hours had passed since he had first left the manor. He didn’t have the time to sit back and think, not when he still had to return back to Oswald and convince him that they shouldn’t share the bed for the night… or the next… or any night _ever_.

It was a long trek back to the city anyway. Edward was sure that he would be able to think of some better action to take by the time he got back.

***

He could not think of anything better.

He stood just in the shadows behind the GCPD building, waiting for the man to come out. Using the burner that he found in the inner pocket of his suit, he had sent a message to Jim’s phone. While Jim wouldn’t be able to see that the message was from him, even Edward had to give him the credit that he had faith that Jim would figure it out pretty quickly.

The door slammed open, slamming against the stone wall with a loud “clang”. Jim stood before him, his piercing gaze raking over his form as he held up his mobile device. “’Every riddle needs one, wise men search for them, what am I? Come meet me out back. Come alone’. Really, Nygma?”

“Answers,” Edward answered, ignoring the rest of the other man’s “greeting”. “Things are… wrong in my life right now and I need confirmation on a list of things from you to get things into perspective.”

Jim crossed his arms over his chest and quirked a brow at Edward. “And why would I help you. It may have slipped your mind, but we aren’t really the best of friends right now.”

Edward pushed his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. “If you help me, I will let you know about a bit of intel involving Oswald.” He watched Jim carefully.

Jim sighed, rolling his shoulders back. “If this is about your engagement, I already know about it. Oswald gushed about it to anyone who would listen, and some who didn’t. He filled my message box full of picture of that damn ring you got him.” Jim’s eyes narrowed. “You did buy it—legally – right?”

The Riddler clicked his tongue. “More or less.” Probably the right answer, seeing as he didn’t know the answer himself. Part of him liked the idea of stealing a ring to propose with, but another part said that he would buy it legally, just at a much lower price thanks to a few choice pictures and a few hours of surveillance. It would be a steal, and one that he could rub in Jim’s face that he got perfectly legally, even though they both would know that it wasn’t. “I admit, it was hard to pick something out for him after the incident with Isabella.”

The police man stepped closer to him. “And what is the incident with Isabella, exactly? Did you kill someone.” Jim held up a hand to correct himself. “Did you kill someone that you actually knew the name of?”

Edward’s mouth dropped open as he brought a hand up to his chest. “Who? Me? Why, I would never.” He hummed thoughtfully. “I’m rather offended that you would even suggest such a thing from me. I am cured, Jimbo. I have the documents and certificate to prove it. I am but a humble chief of staff, not a vicious sociopath on a wild killing spree.” He placed a hand on his cheek, tilting his head into it. “I think it would be best that I leave now, before you say something that could, unfortunately, cause you to lose your job here.” Edward pouted.

Jim didn’t say anything. He just rolled his eyes at the taller man and turned away from him, slamming the metal door behind him.

Edward’s expression faded into a thoughtful one. It would seem that Jim had no recollection of Isabella either, nor Oswald’s death, or disappearance, as most of Gotham saw it. If Jim was going with the same story, then perhaps there was something truly going on here..

Something light bounced off the top of his head, falling to the ground at the toes of his muddy shoes with barely a noise. The crumbled ball of paper had a red and white ribbon tied into a bow, the kind that you expected to see on a gift basket or some sort of fine arrangement of chocolates. A tag, about half the size of the ball of paper, hung from the ribbon.

To: The Riddler

Glancing up at the rooftops, Edward saw no trace of where it had come from. With a scowl, he bent over to pick up the ball, making quick work of the binding ribbon and smoothing out the paper until it was legible.

 

Hello, un-fr **i** end,

I have time to lend,

So I’ll give you a day,

To enjoy love’s sway.

 **C** om **e** tomorrow night,

I will **b** e brought into light.

Won’t you join this un-fink,

For a pl **e** asant-time d **r** ink?

I’ll be the lovely cat,

In the dashin **g** ly ta **l** l hat.

Enj **o** y yo **u** r ~~pengui **n** ,~~ man,

~~Lan **g** uin. Shanguin. Fanguin.~~

Whil **e** you still can.

 


	4. Then Spend A Day With Him

“There you are!” Edward glance up, forcing his body to relax as he saw the front door swing open and a short man stumbled over the threshold. Oswald hobbled towards him, now fully dressed to the nines and leaning heavily upon his cane. His brilliant blues trailed up and down Edward’s form, assessing him for any sort of wounds as a weary smile grew upon his pink lips. “For such a brilliant man, I am very surprised to find out that you don’t know how to operate a phone. I can get Olga to assist you in learning, if you wish, seeing as even she knows how to pick it up and push some buttons.”

Edward resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “My mind had much work to do. I didn’t have the time for anything else.” Seeing the smile fading ever so slightly from Oswald’s face, the taller man moved to correct himself. “I apologize for not contacting you, O-Oswald. I will not worry you again.”

Oswald nodded his head hesitantly. “Be sure that you don’t,” he half-joked. He bit his lower lip. “I hope your walk helped with… things.” He gestured towards the manor. “Since you took so long to get back, and you were in such a sour mood when you awoke, I thought that I would get a little something for our own little private celebration.”  Oswald was barely able to contain the smile that threatened to take over his whole face. Gone was the worrisome look from before and now he was bursting from the seams of his fine suit with excitement.

Edward followed silently behind, warry of the other man.

“Last night was a momentous step forward in our relationship,” Oswald stated, holding open the front door for his fiancé, “and I thought it would be a perfect time to look back at some of the very first steps in our relationship.” The manor was silent, devoid of the usual tapping of Olga’s heels on the hardwood floor or the looming presence of Oswald’s men loitering about, ready for their leader’s spontaneous commands.

“Are we alone?” Edward asked, not taking his eyes off of Oswald.

“Yes.” The Penguin’s smile grew. “I sent them all away for the rest of the day. They are close by enough, of course, if anything arises, but otherwise we have the whole place to ourselves.” Oswald turned to face his fiancé, staring up at him as if nothing on this earth could tear his eyes away from the magnificence placed before him. “I wanted to make sure that no one was going to interrupt us doing our… activities.”

A bright red blush coated Edward’s cheeks. “A-Activ… oh gosh… um…” He tapped his fingers together, looking away from the Penguin for the first time since entering the home… manor… again. “I don’t think… I mean… we just did it yesterday and… some people believe in waiting until the wedding to… you know… umm…”

Oswald, having realized what he was talking about, join him in his face coloring. “I didn’t mean it like that, Eddie.” They stopped outside of one of the spare bedrooms. “I got us a gift, something that goes back to the beginning of our relationship; the beginning of our friendship.” The shorter man bowed his head and pushed open the door with a flourish, revealing the contents of the room.

A man sat in the center of the room, strapped to a wooden chair with thick coils of rope. His face was hidden by a cloth bag and he was stripped down to his sweaty undershirt and soiled boxers. At the sound of the door opening, his head shot up and an array of muffled words came from him. Edward assumed from the sound that he was also gagged with something under the cloth. He struggled against the bounds fruitlessly, nearly toppling the chair over in the process.

“A Mr. Leonard.” Edward entered the room.

Oswald followed him in, locking the door behind him. “Surprise,” he chuckled. “We haven’t had a murder between the two of us that wasn’t for some sort of financial, political, or territorial gain in a while, so I thought that we could…” He trailed off, gesturing towards the tied up man.

“Do you know who this is?” Edward asked. “Or is he just a poor soul who was wandering alone drunk at the wrong time?”

Oswald chuckled again, limping towards the pair. “This, my dear Eddie, is Jerry Shae.” He stood behind the terrified man and placed both hands sharply on his trembling shoulders, causing him to cry out in shock and fear. “He wrote that charming little article about us a while back. What were some of our favorite quotes from it again?” He lightly tapped his chin with a finger, gazing off to the side in deep thought. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers and placed his hand onto the man’s covered head. “Oh yes, I remember now. ‘While most political leaders of the past and present try to avoid drawing attention to their illicit affairs and homosexual desires, Mayor Oswald Cobblepot has chosen to forgo all of that wisdom and display such things openly to the public. It is unclear as to whether this is a ploy to win votes from the younger generation or if he hopes that this addition to his mental imbalance will give him a free pass from any and all future mistakes that will be made in his political career.’” Oswald shrugged his shoulders and glanced up to meet Edward’s eyes. “That was a really powerful quote. It really spoke to the both of us, didn’t it, Mr. Nygma?”

Edward had no recollection of that particular article, not surprising based on the subject of it, but he did remember the name of the man from others. While he wasn’t a very popular or regularly printed writer, he had managed to get a few of his works published by various papers around the city in the past. He was known for his limited views on just about everything and his lack of empathy for anything that didn’t fit his perfect sitcom world. Not long after Oswald’s winning election, Edward had found a sour article printed by the man about how the criminal was not going to last long, especially with another “mental degenerate” right by his side. They hadn’t found any time to get back at the man at the moment, but it looks like, in this world, Oswald had made sure to make time.

“Very powerful,” he replied, stepping closer to them. “It really gave us a new outlook; allowed us to see what things this city doesn’t need around.”

Oswald reached behind him to pick up a knife from the bed. Handing it off to Edward, he retrieved his own and lightly traced the tip along the man’s collarbone, just below the bag. A thin line of red appeared just behind the blade as a droplet of blood rolled down the man’s quivering Adam’s apple. “We are such big fans of you. I was really hoping that I could get a souvenir of this momentous meeting of ours.” He tapped the side of the blade against his cheek gently, leaving behind a red streak in its wake. “I believe that you are left-handed, right? You know, I heard that people like that live shorter lives.”

Locking his eyes on Edward’s, Oswald brought the knife down on the victim’s left hand, slicing off his ring finger. Jerry screamed and struggled against his bonds with renewed vigor. He rocked his head back and forth, as if that would help him escape any faster.

Edward’s lips quirked up into a smile against his will as a rush of giddiness came over him. He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head with a chuckle. “I have to say, it sure does look it right now.” He brought his own knife into Jerry’s leg, just above the kneecap. “Then again, perhaps it was something else about you that led you to where you are now.”

“Now, Ed,” Oswald cooed, picking up the bloody finger, “what could this openminded master of words have possibly done to anger anyone?” He tossed the finger up into the air and caught it again. “I think this will make a good souvenir, but I think we might need a few more things to remember you by. You know how us homosexuals are; we just want, want, want.”

Oswald lightly dragged the tip over the knuckles of Jerry’s right hand, applying just enough pressure to draw a line of blood. He ran over the hand a few times before suddenly slamming it down sharply, lobbing off another finger. That appendage was soon joined by another as Oswald continued to cackle loudly over the sound of Jerry’s muffled screaming. Edward pulled his knife out of his leg and started to draw deep question marks into his legs and chest.

“God, Ed,” Oswald muttered. “You have never looked so sexy before.” Before Edward could think to react, the Penguin brought a hand up to the back of his neck, tangling his fingers into the short hairs on his nape. He pulled the taller man down, bringing their lips together with a light smack.

Edward just stood there, wide-eyed, as the plush lips moved against his. He could taste wine and blood on the others along with something else that he couldn’t quite place, but just screamed Oswald on his tongue. The petite hand on his neck lightly trailed down its length, resting on his broad chest as Oswald pressed closer to him with a low moan.

Jerry jerked in his seat behind them and screamed, pulling them both out of the embrace. Oswald sighed as he stepped back, rolling his eyes and turning towards the terrified man. “I know that you are a huge fan of our PDA, _Jerry,_ ” the Penguin stabbed his knife into Jerry’s right arm, flicking it to make sure it would stay there on its own, “but I need you to be a little less excited or you are going to ruin the moment between my fiancé and I.”

He pulled out the blade still impaled in the last question mark Edward had drawn and handed it back to his man. Oswald, staring deep into Edward’s dark eyes, licked a fleck of blood off his lips. “Shall we continue showing him how much we _appreciate_ his article, Eddie?”

Edward’s eyes darkened at the sight of the pink appendage disappearing just a swiftly as it had appeared. A smooth smile graced his features as he bopped Oswald on the nose with the bloody knife. “I have nowhere else I’d rather be.”


End file.
